


Squat Life

by 105NorthTower



Series: Beforehand [2]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Gen, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/105NorthTower/pseuds/105NorthTower
Summary: Strike is hungry.
Relationships: Shanker & Cormoran Strike
Series: Beforehand [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168427
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Squat Life

**Author's Note:**

> "Tattoos covered his wrists, knuckles and neck…. A deep scar ran from the middle of his upper lip towards his cheekbone, dragging his mouth upwards in a permanent Elvis-style sneer.” Career of Evil

As he entered the run down house in Whitechapel, he wasn't surprised to hear someone singing.

It was a place of few inhibitions. Drugs were ubiquitous, nudity commonplace, communal sex more usual than not. Singing at the top of your lungs, why the fuck not?

He didn't recognise the voice, though. It wouldn't be The Bastard, because he never gave anything away free, not even words. Besides (it pained him to admit it) he sang OK, not good enough to be lead singer in a band, but OK, and this was terrible. 

He threw off his school bag, shucked his coat onto the mattress and tried to work out where the voice was coming from.

_A no holds barred half-nelson  
And the loving touch_

There was no-one in what used to be the kitchen. While he was there, he checked the cupboards for any food but found nothing but Rizlas and empty crisp packets. Who puts an empty crisp packet back in a cupboard? Fuckssake. 

_Come on home  
To the comfort and the joy  
Of feeling lost_

On the stairs, he stepped around a body he didn't recognise. That wasn't unusual, new people were always coming and going. It used to frighten him, but now he was bigger than most of them, soberer than all of them and twice as angry. This one was out cold, but not dead, so he didn't have to do anything about it. 

_The gypsies, the travellers and the thieves  
The good, the bad, the average and unique  
The grebos the crusties and the goths_

The voice was louder upstairs, and accompanied suddenly by the sound of a glass door closing, so he headed for the bathroom.

"Hello, Shanker"

"Bunsen!"

"Having a little sing-song?"

"Join in mate, you're welcome." He started again at full throttle.

_Hello, good evening and welcome  
To nothing much_

"Hey!" he joked, "It may not be much to you, but it's home to some of us, pal."

"Me an' all now, Bunsen. Yer mum says I can stay as long as I need."

Strictly speaking, it's a squat, so anyone can stay, but he didn't say that, because he could see how pleased Shanker was. And he was pleased too. Shanker was OK. He didn't get off his face all the time, he was polite to Lucy, even protective, as if she'd earned part of his fealty to Leda.

Not that Lucy was here now. No, he was alone. Unless you counted Switch, and somehow he didn't count the baby. And he didn't see Switch being here long. His paternal grandparents were already making noises about removing the kid, and he didn't blame them.

Shanker was singing to his reflection.

_Eyes down and I'll keep you up to date_  
_Two fat ladies in 1988_  
_The safe sixteen lovers who lied_

He laughed. "Why are you in such a good mood, Shanker?"

"You want to see something?"

"Go on then."

Shanker rolled up his sleeve and bared his forearm, then turned it to show the pale skin of the underside. It was a mass of raised, red dots, like spots, but with a dark, foreign elements. Not being born yesterday, he'd seen one before.

"A home-made tattoo. Fuck, Shanker. Your face has only just stopped oozing. Haven't you had enough pain for a bit?"

Shanker laughed. "How else do I know I'm alive, Bunsen? Come on, let's go down the road. I've got some beers. We'll celebrate."

"Where did you get money for beer?"

"Did a drop off. For a mate."

Oh. 

"Shanker ..."

"Yeah."

"Does your mate ... need anyone else?"

Shanker grabbed him by his school jumper and backed him none too gently against the door.

"You. Do. Not. Do. Jobs."

"OK, OK, I was just .. "

"What would your mom say, Bunsen? And the army? They won't have you if you get caught. Which you would. Because you're big and clever and you talk too much."

"Yeah, you're right ..."

Shanker released him. "Be patient, mate. It's all gonna come together for you one day. I can feel it. And then it's gravy all the way for both of us. You're going to do good. Make her proud. Just wait."

"It's just ..."

"What?"

"I'm so fucking hungry."

"Well that's soon sorted. We'll get a bag of jockeys on the way."

"OK."

Shanker was fishing in his pocket.

"And you can have this to tide you over."

Shanker handed him some chewing gum, the old-fashioned kind in a strip with a foil wrapper and blue paper sleeve. It tasted sweet and minty and awesome. Instead of dropping it to the floor, he refolded the foil wrapper neatly and put it back inside the sleeve, so it looked unopened. He slipped it into his pocket.

If Shanker noticed anything, he didn't say.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from The Only Living Boy in New Cross by Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine


End file.
